


This One's On Me

by LaLainaJ



Series: Make Some Noise [54]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, ArtStudent!Klaus, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Sex, Stripper!Caroline, Strippers & Strip Clubs, klarolineauweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-03 02:35:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6593134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaLainaJ/pseuds/LaLainaJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Working a couple nights a week to pay for her Ivy Leauge education is not something that bothers her. But she knows that it might bother some of her less evolved classmates. So she keeps her school like carefully separated from her work life. That's all a shattered when one of her regulars shows up as a substitute TA for one of her classes. Can she trust Klaus to keep her secret?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day One of klarolineauweek. AU: All Human.

**This One's On Me**

**Prompt: KC + stripper/college AU + "we've got this British guy as substitute art professor and well, this is awkward, you're one of my regulars/I gave you lap dance last night" Title from 'Striptease' by Danity Kane. Smut.)**

Her professor is late (again – the man was a sweetheart, but the epitome of the 'absent minded' stereotype. All tweed jackets and mussed hair, a battered briefcase that seemed to be held together with luck and little else). Caroline's got her head down, going over her notes on labor markets. This art history class had nothing to do with her major, but she was getting her distribution requirements out of the way so she could really focus on next year, her final one.

The students are just beginning to get restless, and the hall is filled with quiet conversations and restless shifting. She expects someone to invoke the ten minute rule any second now.

But they're out of luck, because the door creaks open. Caroline glances up, expecting her familiar professor, harried and offering apologies.

But that's not who comes through the door.

Caroline cringes, when she recognizes the man, a soft curse spilling out as she slouches deep into her seat. The guy a couple chairs down gives her a strange look, but the vicious glare she shoots back leaves him gulping nervously and facing forward.

This was so not good.

She's not ashamed of what she does, how could she be? Working three nights a week pays her bills and keeps her mostly out of debt, something very few of her peers can say. Her mom's sheriff's salary wasn't exactly up to the cost of Caroline's Ivy League school, and scholarships didn't cover everything either. Her shifts dancing at a 'Gentleman's Club' did and left enough left over so she didn't have to scrimp and scrape for occasional indulgences.

But there was a reason she drove an hour and a half into New York City every Thursday afternoon, took advantage of a friend's couch over the weekends. And that was to lessen the likelihood that she'd run into someone from school, someone who would think she  _should_  be ashamed of stripping.

Never mind the fact that whatever douchebag dudebro who tried to harass her would never have known about her part time occupation if  _he_  hadn't been at a strip club in the first place. Those types weren't great at recognizing hypocrisy. No, they'd whisper 'slut' and assume that her stellar class ranking had nothing to do with her brains, or the fact that she worked her ass off to get the grades she did.

Caroline took great pains to avoid that particular potential awfulness.

And she was kinda pissed that it was entirely possible her cover was blown. All because Klaus, the guy setting up papers at the lectern, was one of her regulars.

He'd first shown up almost a year ago, a 21st birthday party for a dark haired smirker who'd called her a 'tasty little thing' and passed out halfway through a lap dance.

Klaus had rolled his eyes, and helped her up, gingerly extricating his friend's head from where it had landed on her cleavage. He'd offered her a smile, and had managed to keep his eyes trained on her face. He'd handed her a hefty tip. "Sorry, love. Kol's not one for pacing himself," he'd apologized ruefully.

She'd eyed the birthday boy, who'd been dangerously close to falling out of his chair. "I can see that," came her dry reply. She'd then glanced at the rest of the party, none of whom had seemed to be in a much better state. "Do you want me to get a bouncer to help you carry him out?"

He'd let out a sigh, sounding long suffering and so incredibly done. "I'd appreciate it. We've a gaudy monstrosity of a limousine outside."

The unconscious guy had been wearing a crown, and holding a sceptre, so that seemed only appropriate to Caroline. She'd slipped passed Klaus with a polite nod, and made her way backstage.

She'd been due for a break anyway.

She'd forgotten about him quickly, hadn't even known his name at the time, even if she'd noted his attractiveness in a distantly appreciative sort of way. A decent number of hot guys strolled through the doors, made eyes at her while she danced. And she flirted back, to an extent – a flutter of lashes here, a coy lick of her lips there - mindful of tips. But she'd never been tempted to cross the lines she'd drawn. She kept her work life and her life-life strictly separated. Caroline Forbes didn't exist inside the four walls of the club and 'Mysti' ceased to exist the second her heavy stage makeup was scrubbed off.

Was it a little complicated? Sure. But Caroline made it work.

Until Klaus started coming back.

It had become harder and harder to keep things separate ever since that fateful birthday party. Once just a random designated sober friend Klaus managed to become something more. He watched her dance, his eyes dark and greedy, tracing the lines of her body with such  _heat_. He looked a little pinched sometimes, when she was dealing with other customers, the set of his jaw tense. He kept his distance though, never lashed out, never bit out snide comments about 'selling herself' like a certain ex-boyfriend.

They talked occasionally, he'd sidle up to her at the bar, order another drink while she waited for a bottle of water between lap dances. She'd wave the bouncers away, because he never tried anything. Didn't attempt to slide his hands over any of her bare skin, coerce her into leaving with him for a 'private show.'

The security at the club didn't stand for that and neither did Caroline. Her parents had been pretty insistent she learn the basics of self-defence when it had become clear that their pretty teen daughter had a bit of a boy crazy streak. She had no problem applying her knee to the crotch area of hands-y drunks.

Klaus always asked her how her night was going, complimented her performance. Called her ravishing, in a way that managed to be admiring without a hint of lechery. Impressive, but Caroline allowed for the possibility that the accent just made the words seem prettier. He'd told her his name, in one of their early chats, but never asked for hers. He'd sprinkle in dry comments about the other patrons that had her biting her lip to hold in a smile. But he always knew - would light up and appear very pleased with himself. She'd find herself leaning closer, bantering back, tempted to be the one to reach out and  _touch_. Until duty called and she had to get back to work.

It was almost a relief, walking away from him. She had a hard time being 'Mysti' during those brief conversations and little bits of Caroline began to bleed through. Which was a problem she'd never been able to solve, hadn't even tried all that hard.

Klaus was there, every other week, like clockwork. Katherine, her boss, had taken her aside, asked if he was bothering her, made it clear that she'd be perfectly willing to 'ban his ass if he's being a creeper, even if he buys the good shit.'

Caroline had assured Kat that she had it handled, and she should keep stocking the top shelf bourbon that Klaus preferred.

She'd never seen him outside of the dim club, kind of thought she never would, hence the reason she had practically slid to the floor of the lecture hall at the sight of him.

He looks up once he's gotten organized, a faint smile on his face, scanning the room. Clearing his throat he says, "Hello. My name is Klaus Mikaelson, and I'm working on my MFA. Your professor had a family emergency, and his usual TA's out sick, so I'm afraid you'll have to bear with me as I muddle through."

Caroline hears several giggles, of the breathy impressed variety, notes that most of her female classmates having perked up. Not that she blames them. He's not dressed all that differently than usual, only lacking the dark jacket. He's just wearing a thin grey henley, and it clings to his shoulders in a way that's definitely noteworthy.

He wanders out from behind the podium. "I do believe you're studying the tail end of the Baroque period, yes? Not my favorite, but we'll see how you all feel about it." He sets his eyes on a girl in the front row, smiles at her warmly, "If you wouldn't mind getting the lights, Miss…"

"Lewis," she titters, standing quickly. "Jessica."

He thanks her, and Caroline can see the girl's face turn pink even from all the way across the room. Lewis comma Jessica hurries to the light switch, dimming the room. Caroline cautiously sits up, thinking he won't be able to see her in the dark, pulls the hood of her sweater over her hair just in case.

She only half pays attention to the slides, too distracted by watching him, the way he moves, the tiny shifts in his expression as he speaks of the works that flash across the screen. He wanders the room as he talks and she cringes, as he draws near, looking intently down at her notebook and scribbling nonsense.

He pauses, just for a second, so briefly that Caroline prays she's imagined it.

It's possibly the most stressful hour and fifteen minutes of her life.

She lets out a sigh of relief when Klaus clicks the projector off and dismisses them, squints when the lights turn back on. Realizes, with a sinking feeling that she'll have to walk right passed him to get out of the room. Unless she wants to be a weirdo and climb over all the seats in the middle section to go down the second aisle. Which would probably just draw  _more_  attention to her. Several people have corrugated at the front to talk to him, and Caroline crosses her fingers that he'll be sufficiently distracted and she'll be able to sneak by.

Caroline tells herself that's entirely possible that he won't even recognize her fully dressed and without an inch of makeup slathered on. And then she tells herself that she wouldn't be disappointed, were that the case.

Such a lie.

A pointless one, as it turns out. Klaus looks up, at the  _exact_  wrong time, just as she'd hazarded a peek in his direction as she hit the last stair. His blue eyes widen in recognition and maybe some delight. He steps forward, as if he's going to speak to her but she shakes her head, a vehement denial, and speeds out of the room.

She refuses to allow herself to feel sad, as she walks away. Caroline  _liked_  her nicely compartmentalized life, thank you very much.

* * *

 

But it seemed as though the compartments are no longer content to stay tightly closed.

Caroline's surprised to see Klaus, when she steps out on stage. He's closer then he usually is, right in the front row. She slips in her high heels, has to grab the pole and swing around to cover.

She's been doing this for years, never gets nervous anymore. But her heart begins to beat a little faster, and the sweat on her palms might very well be a safety hazard.

A change of plans is necessary because she's so not up to her usual acrobatics. Katherine will think it's weird, but Caroline can handle her questions. Setting her back to the pole she slides down, teasingly opening her legs, running her fingertips up her thighs, flashing what's under her skirt, before closing them with a demure pout that leaves the crowd whistling.

Sliding back up she untucks her shirt, lazily letting her hands run over her body, and into her hair as she spins, pointedly avoiding looking in his direction.

She focuses on the music, keeping her movements slow and provocative, rolling her hips and arching her back. It's the longest performance of her life. Finally, she finishes her set, in her usual sparkly G-string, and struts backstage with a final kiss blown to the audience.

The applause level's about the same as it usually is, so she assumes no one's disappointed in her performance. Kat's waiting for her, with a raised brow and a robe, "Did you pull something out there? Cause that wasn't your usual style, Forbes."

"No, I'm fine. Don't worry about it." She shrugs into the robe, tying a tight knot to avoid Katherine's shrewd gaze.

"You sure? Because you can skip your first floor shift, if you want. The crowd's not that thick just yet and the other girl's will be fine with getting the tips."

Caroline bites her lip and considers the offer. It's generous, for Katherine. But hiding wouldn't solve anything. "You know what? Yeah, I'll skip it. But could you do me a teeny, tiny favor?"

Kat looks wary, "Maybe…"

"The guy that's been hanging around, the one I said was cool. Could you send him back to the dressing room?"

"No sex in my club, Caroline. The last thing I need is to get busted because the cops think my girls are doing something more than getting naked."

Caroline feels her face flame, "What? No!" she cries, indignant. "It's not like that."

"Please. He's been dying for a shot since he first walked in that door. And you've thrown him the sex eyes more than once, cupcake."

She splutters, her hands waving as she gropes for words, "Oh my god, Kat. Seriously? If I was interested I would not be dragging him to my tiny, curtained, not so  _private_ , cubicle. Second, I saw him this week. At school."

Katherine's eyes widen, understanding dawning, "Did he say something to you? Make you feel uncomfortable? Because I  _might_  be able to arrange to have him roughed up.  _If_  you wanted."

Kat's entirely serious and Caroline finds herself smiling. Because that was about the sweetest thing Katherine Pierce had possibly ever said and she kind of wants to hug the other woman. But Kat would kill her. "No, it's fine. I just want to talk to him, make it clear that he needs to keep what I do to himself. I think he's trustworthy but if not, well, I might take you up on your offer."

Kat nods in satisfaction, an oddly excited gleam in her eye, "Alright, if you're sure. I'll send him back and have Mason stay within earshot. Yell if you need any a kneecap broken."

She spins away, moving out into the club before Caroline can say thank you. Likely on purpose, as Kat wasn't really great at sentimental.

She makes her way back to the dressing room. Caroline ducks into her tiny area, leans into the mirror and methodically begins to repair her makeup. Her foundation's a victim of the lights this time, because she'd barely broken a sweat with her routine. She takes a deep breath and focuses on the task, trying to ignore the nerves twisting her stomach into knots.

Her hand trembles when she hears footsteps, and she sets her brush down when they pause just outside. Caroline slides the heavy red curtain back, looks up at Klaus warily. "Hi," Caroline greets him guardedly, before jerking her head to the side. "There’s an extra stool over there. I think we need to get some things straight."

He looks a little amused at her brusque tone but obligingly grabs himself a seat. She turns away from him, meets his eyes in the mirror as he settles on to it. "Okay, number one, I'm going to need you to keep this away from school. If any of the trust fund legacy frat bros in my program knew about this I'd never hear the end of it."

He looks momentarily angry but his face smooths and he nods, "Of course, love. I'd not intended to say anything."

"Yeah, well calling my 'Mysti" when you saw me in class wouldn't have been exactly subtle, would it?"

He appears somewhat abashed, "Right. I'd always assumed it wasn't your real name, of course. But it was an instinct. I was just shocked to see you. Thrilled, really. Didn't really think."

Caroline studies him, the way he meets her eyes steadily. His contrition seems genuine so she decides that she might as well forgive him. No harm had been done, in the end. "It's Caroline, actually. But don't go using that one here, okay? Only my boss and a couple of the girls know it."

"I'm honoured," he murmurs.

The silence gets a little too heavy then. Caroline's suddenly very aware that they're mostly alone, and she's wearing very little. And she totally blames Kat for putting  _that_  thought in her head.

Conveniently ignoring the fact that Klaus has been a pretty frequent star in her sexual fantasies.

She forces a smile, a light tone, reaching out for a hair brush so she can occupy her hands. "Why are you here, anyway? You're usually an every other Saturday guy. That makes you a week and two days early."

A tiny smirk curls his mouth, "So you  _have_  noticed me."

Caroline rolls her eyes, "Yes. And noticing you  _tonight_  almost led to me cracking my head open on stage."

He winces, "Sorry. I'd have felt terrible. But, to answer your question, I wanted to see you. You looked rather spooked in class yesterday, and I wanted to see if I could do anything to ease that."

"Well, you have," Caroline tells him. And she's not lying. Were he a sleaze he would have tried to get something out of her before agreeing to keep quiet, but he hadn't even blinked before promising.

"And I'd like to ask you out," he continues, watching her carefully.

Maybe she'd spoken too soon.

Caroline's just opening her mouth to shut him down, but he hurries to speak. "And I'm not expecting anything. I've heard a few men attempt to come on to you, and some of your coworkers, very ineptly. I don't think your job means you're obligated to sleep with me. And I'm not assuming anything about your sexual likes and dislikes, based on your occupation."

She narrows her eyes, "Oh, really? Then why the interest?"

He shifts a bit, almost awkward, his palms running over his jeans. "I think it'll be easier if I show you. So Monday. Come to my studio space. I'll pick up lunch. Broad daylight. And we can leave the door open, if you'd feel more comfortable."

It only takes her a moment to make a decision. The idea of spending time with him outside the club, where she  _can_  be Caroline is appealing. She reaches over and snatches a pad of post-its and a pen from her bag. "Write down the address."

He does so quickly, with a small grin, letting his fingers linger over hers when he hands it back. "I look forward to seeing you."

She kind of agrees, a giddy warmth building, anticipation and excitement. "Until Monday. But I'm going to have to kick you out. My first set was terrible, so I'm going to have to make up for it by getting extra fancy in the next one.

His eyes widen, mouth falling open slightly. Caroline supresses a smirk, sure that his imagination has just run wild. But he's always been uncannily good at sensing her moods, pins her with a playful glare as he stands, "You're a little mean, sweetheart."

Caroline shrugs, unrepentant, "Part of my charm."

He reaches out to toy with a loose curl, the back of his hand just brushing the silk that covers her shoulder. Caroline's surprised by how disappointed she is when he pulls back. "Have a good evening, Caroline. And do be careful, please. I quite like your head as it is."

She nods, and he retreats, leaving her with a softly voiced goodnight.

* * *

 

She sleeps in on Monday, skipping Art History. Rolls out of bed, throws her hair in a messy bun. Dabs on a little mascara, a swipe of lip balm. Wears jeans, flats and a grey t-shirt she's had since high school.

Caroline's determined to make it clear that she's not Mysti, just in case Klaus still has any illusions.

She's never been to the address that he'd given her, the building far from her usual haunts. She feels plain, and a little out of place, amongst all the tattoos and piercings and unnatural hair colors the students inside sport. But no one gives her a second look, and soon she's standing outside a door with 'Klaus' scrawled across the whiteboard next to it.

Caroline takes a deep breath, and straightens her spine, before knocking loudly. There's a flurry of movement on the other side, and Klaus appears, looking more unkempt than usual. He smiles when he sees her, "Caroline. You're right on time."

"Also part of my charm," she tells him, standing up on her tiptoes to peer behind him. There's paint speckled on his forearms, a few smears of yellow on his shirt.

"Right. I got a little caught up in a piece. It's been giving me trouble for a while and I didn't set things up the way I wanted to for you…" he's rambling, running a hand through his hair and she can't help but find it endearing.

"I could come back?" she offers. "I have class at 3 but if this isn't a good time for you…"

He refuses immediately. "No! No, it's fine. Come in."

He steps back, and ushers her in, his hand landing on her back for a moment. "So, I paint. Mostly. I dabble in a few other things, but painting is my favorite. Always has been. But last year, I got sort of… stuck."

"Okay," Caroline says slowly, mystified by the story. "Artist's block. Didn't know that was a thing."

That coaxes another smile from him. "Nor did I, until I found myself afflicted, and unwilling to commit a thing to canvas. But then I was dragged out for my younger brother's birthday. Unwillingly, because his friends are idiots and Kol the worst of the lot once he's hit a certain level of intoxication."

"He was your brother?" Caroline asks. "The guy who passed out in my boobs?"

"I don't always claim him," Klaus jokes. "As I'm sure you can understand. But yes, we are related. And he gave me something of a gift, that night. Even if it was unwitting."

Klaus moves away from her, towards a stack of canvases on the far side of the room. Digs through them, before pulling one out and flipping it to face her. It's a woman's torso, partially in profile, in bold abstract lines. Curves of a breast, and a hip, the indents of a spine. Black, with splashes of purple and blue.

"Is that…me?" Caroline asks, tipping her head to the side to study it.

"It is. The first proper thing I'd painted in ages. I settled my brother into bed and went immediately into the studio, my mind filled with how you'd moved, the way your skin shifted over your muscles and bones. I had to paint it, right then."

"Oh," Caroline manages, at a loss. This hadn't been what she'd expected.

"There's more," he continued. "It's why I kept going back, at first. And then I felt strange, painting you without  _knowing_  you. So I started to talk to you, and that only made me want to paint you more, to see if I could capture  _you_ , your stubbornness and poise, in the lines and curves of your body."

"Can I see them?" she asks.

Klaus looks relieved, like he'd expected her to be angry. And she wasn't, not yet. She was still reserving the right, depending on what else he showed her. But the work wasn't lascivious at all, or overtly sexual. Didn't make her feel violated, or like an object. There was strength to the way he'd depicted her that appealed. There was no fragility, but a sense of controlled movement and power.

It's beautiful, and she wants to see more.

Wordlessly, he starts pulling canvases, and they're all much the same style. There's a study of her arm, hand clenched around the pole, the strength of her bicep hinted at. The curve of her shoulder, her face in shadow. Her crossed legs, as she twirls, the muscles of her thigh lovingly outlined. And so many more.

She's silent, for a long time, when he's finished. She takes another lap around the room, eyeing each piece in turn. "Why now?" she asks him, curious. She's yet to find anything in the pictures that upsets her. There's nothing that would give away her identity, for one. And they're very, very good. Caroline never thought she'd be anybody's muse, but she finds she doesn't hate it.

"Because I enjoy you, Caroline. But you've always been so carefully distant, when we've spoken. Hiding. Seeing you here, it made you more real, and even more appealing. I thought I'd best take a chance, or I'd regret it."

"So… you want to date me?" Caroline asks skeptically. She gets plenty of offers, but experience has taught her that some guys couldn't handle the reality of her job. "I'm not going to stop stripping, FYI. The money's too good, and I've still got a master's degree to pay for. I work Thursday through Saturday every single week and that's not going to change. Other people are going to see me ninety-five percent naked regularly. Boyfriends are strictly forbidden from the club, because that can get messy. Can you really handle all that?"

He doesn't hesitate, "Yes."

Caroline scoffs, "How do you  _know_?"

Klaus steps closer, watches her carefully, before resting his palm on her shoulder. "I've thought about this extensively, love. You hide yourself, when you're on that stage. I saw tiny pieces, of who you really are, when we spoke and I managed to make you laugh. I want more of those. I want to study them, hoard them. And as long as they're only for me, I don't care about who sees the mask. Didn't you ever wonder why I never paid for a lap dance, love?"

She had, Caroline can grudgingly admit. He shelled out serious money for bourbon, but had never paid her to dance for him.

"It's because I want you to  _want_  to touch me. I want your skin burning because you need my hands on it." He steps into her, as he speaks, the hand on her shoulder gliding up, burrowing into her hair and encouraging her to tip her head back. And then his lips are on her throat, a whisper of a touch that leaves Caroline shivering. Her hands, almost without permission, come up to clutch his shoulders because her knees actually feel a little weak.

Because yeah, he was totally living up to her fantasies right now. "Let me take you to dinner," he murmurs, kissing a spot just below her ear.

Her nails digging into his shirt in response, "I have class tonight," she tells him, tipping her head to the side to encourage his mouth.

"Tomorrow," he offers, voice pitched low and tempting, a palm gliding down her spine. "Anywhere you want."

She finds herself nodding, her eyes drifting shut. His lips slant over hers, but it's far too simple of a brush, and she bites back a groan of protest as he pulls away.

She's shocked at how shaky she is, and is really glad that the molded cup of her bra hides the hard point of her nipple. It's been way too long since she's felt like this.

Klaus clears his throat, and she's gratified to see she's not the only one affected, his eyes are dark and there's the faintest flush on his cheekbones. "Can I pick you up?" he asks. "Or we could meet somewhere, if you'd be more comfortable."

Out of habit, Caroline names a Mexican restaurant a few blocks from her place, asks if he knows it. Klaus nods, "I'll be there. Six?"

"Make it six-thirty?" Caroline requests. She's got class until five, and she kind of wants to pull out the big guns, primping wise. She's never been shy about going after what she wants, doing whatever it took to make things happen. She wants him, has for a while now, but had been too wrapped up in her self-imposed rules to admit it.

She's  _so_  done with that.

But he's still being careful, controlled. Caroline's already plotting how she's going to make him lose it.

Klaus grins, pleased and completely oblivious to the plans she has percolating, "It's a date."

* * *

 

She takes Klaus' hand as they walk out of the restaurant, pulls him in the direction of her apartment. Dinner had gone even better than anticipated, the sparks she'd felt before (and forced herself to ignore) igniting and running rampant. He was dryly funny, attentive. Interested in her opinions and her plans. Passionate about art, and willing to answer her questions about it without sounding the least bit condescending.

It's definitely the best date she's been on in years. Possibly ever. And she's totally unwilling to end it with something as tepid as a simple goodnight kiss.

She might even be a rebel and skip art history again tomorrow, planning on getting  _very_  little sleep tonight. Surely Klaus will be willing to offer a little tutoring? After she rocked his world, of course.

He glances down at their joined hands curiously, "May I ask where you're taking me, love?"

"My place," Caroline replies simply.

Klaus pauses, just for a moment. Caroline doesn't and pulls him along with her. "So you've decided…"

"To give you a shot, yes," she confirms, not looking at him. "You seem to get what I do better than most people. A lot of guys don't really understand that it's not necessarily about sex for me. It's a performance. And I'm great at it, and I enjoy it. Doesn't mean I want to sleep with every guy who'll throw a wad of cash at me."

He stops once more, but uses his hold to tug her back, until she stumbles into his chest with a laugh. It's muffled by his mouth, pressing against hers hungrily, his tongue practiced and determined and out for her sanity.

She opens to him with a moan, sliding her hands into his hair and pressing the length of her body against him. Her thigh slips between his, rubbing against the growing evidence of just how much he wants her. He groans, clutching her hips and rocking against her. A car drives past, something unintelligible (but probably rude) yelled out the window. They break away, Klaus with a curse and Caroline with a giggle. "So not the place," she manages, breathless from the kiss. "I'm only like two blocks away."

Klaus kisses her again, softer this time, "Lead the way."

She laces their fingers together, sets a brisk pace that he matches easily. They don't talk, content to exchange heated glances, their bodies brushing deliberately. It's the subtlest form of foreplay she's ever endured, but it raises her temperature more effectively than anything more blatant ever has.

There really is something to be said for chemistry.

Her hand shakes, as she tries to unlock her door, and the kisses he's planting on the nape of her neck are not helpful at all. When she gets the door open she stumbles through, whirling and slamming him against it so it closes with a bang, clawing at his shirt. Klaus helps her toss it aside, pulling her back and sealing his mouth over hers. His mouth is frantic, but his hands are reverent, tracing down her sides like he's memorizing the curves he finds.

Caroline's impatient, reaching up and shoving the straps of her dress aside, peeling the stretchy fabric down easily and kicking it aside. Klaus makes a noise, low and appreciative, pushing off the door and walking her backwards. His hands smoothly dispose of her bra, an arm wrapping around her back to steady her as his head dips and his tongue plays with her nipple.

Caroline arches back, a silent plea for more, and lets out a whine when he sucks roughly. They stumble, kicking off their shoes, clumsy even though neither of them had bothered with alcohol, before running into her couch. She pushes him down, climbing onto his lap, fumbling with his belt buckle. Klaus brushes her hands away, slouching back into the cushions, and the widening of his legs leaving her thighs spread over his. He runs a single fingertip over the front of her panties, stroking over the damp spot that's formed and then up higher, brushing over her clit and making her shudder. He presses harder, and Caroline lets out a ragged curse. It's not nearly enough, and she stands up. "Take your pants off," she tells him, shimmying the scrap of fabric that covers her down.

Klaus doesn't listen, sitting up and grabbing her hips. He nudges her feet apart, "In a minute," he grits out, letting his hands slip down her legs. His thumbs trace the soft skin of her inner thighs, inching back upwards tortuously slowly. "I've been thinking of this for months, Caroline. Watching you on that stage, beautiful but so controlled. I want you to moan for me love, come apart around my fingers calling my name."

She's onboard, is about to bite out a demand for him to hurry, but Klaus hooks a hand around her calve, lifting it so her knee rests on his shoulder lips brushing over her slit. "Yes," Caroline hisses out, threads her hand through his hair and pulls him into her, writhing against his mouth.

His hands clutch her ass, tilting her hips, his tongue swiping through her folds before landing on her clit. Broad licks and teasing flutters, the occasional hard pull that leaves her gasping. Her toes curl painfully, her head thrown back. He's merciless, pushing her higher, until she breaks apart with a cry, slumping forward as she shudders.

Klaus catches her, arranging her boneless limbs until she's sprawled across his lap, his voice a low rumble as he tells her that she's incredible.

A compliment she's not sure she deserves. Yet.

When she's caught her breath Caroline smiles into the skin of his shoulder, grinds her hips down against his. He's rock hard, still confined in his jeans, and a hoarse moan spills from his lips, his head tipping back against the couch. She kisses his throat, nibbles at his collarbone.

She moves against him again, slow and languid, enjoying the renewed flutters of desire it drags out of her. She stands, ignoring the shakiness of her legs. Klaus looks up at her with something like wonder. Caroline arches a brow, "Condom?" she asks

"Pocket," he rasps, reaching down for it.

"Take off your pants and put it on," Caroline instructs. She brings her hands up to cup her breasts, enjoys the heated way he watches her as she rolls her nipples. His hands are unsteady, as he strips away the rest of his clothes, rolls the condom down the length of his cock, shamelessly stroking himself as he watches her. Caroline bites her lip at the sight, finding that it turns her on more then she'd expected.

Files that thought away for later exploration.

Caroline turns away from him, lowering herself into his lap, the lean planes of his chest cradling her back. She can feel his cock, hot and hard against her ass, and he lets out a tortured groan when she lifts up, reaching below her and pressing the tip of him to her entrance. She sinks down slowly, swirling her hips teasingly as she goes, clamping down hard once he's inside of her.

He stiffens, his "Fuck, Caroline," muffled by her hair.

She gropes for his hands, pulls one to her breast and directs the other between her legs, before she reaches behind her and wraps her own around his neck. "I want you to touch me, Klaus," she tells him, waits for him to obey. And then she starts rolling her hips, a mimicry of the way he's seen her dance a hundred times.

His breath comes out in harsh pants against her skin, and she calls his name when he bites down on her shoulder, just as he begins to rub her clit.

He begins to meet her motions, pushing up and driving deeper and she turns her head, pulling his lips to hers in a kiss that's more passion then finesse. He doesn't mind, sucking her lower lip into his mouth. They move together frantically, rough and perfect, and she's just about there, but his arms band around her, slowing her movements.

She whines, high pitched and embarrassingly needy. "Klaus, please. I'm so close."

He barely moves, tracing soft circles on her clit that leave her eyes rolling back and her thighs twitching. "Slower, love," he coaxes. "We've got plenty of time." He adds more pressure, and she tries to speed up again, but he makes a noise of admonishment, "Just feel it. Isn't it good? So much better then I'd imagined," he breathes.

She nods, because she agrees. Her imagination hadn't prepared her for the reality of being with him, the callouses on his fingers dragging over her most sensitive nerves, the scent of his skin all around her. It's blissful, but Caroline can only take so much. Her muscles begin to tighten up, searching for a second release. He reads her cues perfectly, letting up so she can rock her hips a touch faster, chasing what she so desperately  _needs_. The shallow thrusts leave her keening, and the pressure snaps unexpectedly, her mouth falling open in a silent scream. Her spasming muscles pulls Klaus' own finish from him. He comes with a groan, his mouth buried in the curve of her shoulder.

The pant together, almost in synch. She scrapes her nails through his hair, savors his pleased murmur. His palm rests on her belly, fingers stroking her skin soothingly.

He drops a kiss on her shoulder, and when he speaks it's with a grumble, and great reluctance, "As much as I'd like to stay here you have to get up, sweetheart."

Caroline makes a face, but she shifts, standing up to he can pull off the condom. She grabs the box of tissues on the side table, and he takes it with a grateful smile. She clears her throat, feeling strangely shy, even after everything they'd just done, "Do you want to stay?" she asks tentatively.

He looks up at her like she's insane, "Is that a serious question?"

Caroline huffs, crosses her arms over her breasts, "A valid one! We did technically just go on our first date, you know. Maybe you want to work up to the whole spending the night thing!"

Klaus rolls his eyes, but his expression is fond. He stands, unashamed of his nakedness, and tugs her arms away from her body, pulling her into him. "I'd love to stay. And see your bedroom. And your bathroom. Tonight, tomorrow, whenever you'll have me."

Caroline pretends to think it over, drawling, "Well, if you're that good on the couch, I suppose I owe it to myself to see what you can do in a bed."

He laughs, gets a look on his face like he's going to be making a snarky retort. But Caroline cuts him off, with a kiss, licking eagerly into his mouth. He looks a little dazed, when she pulls back, so maybe it's cheating when she mutters, "Race you!" and darts away.

He follows, and she dodges before he can catch her, ending up on top of him across her bed.

She's pretty sure Klaus doesn't mind, at least he  _seems_  fine with the turn of events, looking up at her with bright eyes when she straddles his abdomen. "I'm beginning to get that you like to be on top," he says, stroking her thighs.

Caroline throws her hair over one shoulder, kisses his chest. "Sometimes," she confirms. "But I'm pretty flexible. Figuratively  _and_  literally. Totally up for experimenting."

His breaths grow shallower, as she makes her way down, tasting his skin as she goes. Whatever retort he was formulating comes out garbled, when she licks the head of his cock.

But they  _do_  experiment. Extensively.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**(Prompt: Mini follow up to the drabble where Caroline works as a stripper I did for the spring round of klarolineauweek. It's rated M for smut but this one's K+)**

Klaus really should have known that Kol was up to something. He's kicking himself for not recognizing the signs. To be fair acting the nuisance  _was_  Kol's default setting so perhaps it's understandable that he'd not seen this particular bit of nonsense coming.

Caroline will likely disagree.

He and Caroline have been seeing each other for months and Klaus has slowly been introducing her to his family. Elijah first since he was the most likely to be polite. Freya second since she was rather more easygoing than the rest of the lot. Klaus had wavered whether Kol or Rebekah should go next and, after much mental debate, he'd ultimately decided on Kol. Klaus had known his younger brother would no doubt go out of his way to embarrass him, and would likely flirt shamelessly with Caroline, but he still thought him the better option. Caroline could more than handle herself, he rationalized. She had plenty of practice, Klaus knew, with what she deemed 'pervs and creepers.' Kol's brand of lechery should be no problem for her.

Subjecting Caroline to Rebekah's doubtlessly condescending vitriol could wait. Bekah had few female friends. Had managed to despise just about every woman her brothers had ever taken an interest in and was not shy about throwing words like 'tacky trollop' around. Had managed to scare off a fair few dates and girlfriends over the years. Klaus knew Caroline was made of some pretty stern stuff but he thought it best not to risk it just yet.

Mind made up he'd invited Kol over for dinner, had been banking on the fact that the level of intoxication Kol had reached that fateful night at the strip club would prevent him from recognizing Caroline as the stripper who'd once performed a lap dance for him.

Caroline had no qualms about him knowing but Klaus knew that Kol's ability to make things awkward meant they'd need to ease into the truth of her occupation. Kol had absently noted that Caroline looked familiar, brows furrowed in concentration. Caroline had played dumb, wide eyed and innocent, telling Kol that she really didn't think they'd ever met and maybe she just had one of those faces?

Klaus had  _thought_  that Kol had bought the lie. Dinner had gone well enough, Kol making the expected borderline offensive comments and Caroline parrying them back. She'd been sweetly venomous and Klaus had thought Kol had seemed almost impressed by the time the night was through. He had assumed his plan had been successful.

Clearly a mistake.

The cab he and Kol were in had just pulled up outside the familiar façade of the club Caroline worked at and Klaus eyed the neon lights with a sinking feeling of dread. Kol hopped out before he could say anything and Klaus briefly considered telling the driver to pull away and leaving Kol behind. Immediately decided against it because that was basically throwing down a challenge, inviting Kol to throw one hell of a scene.

Klaus gets out of the cab slowly, "Why are we hear, Kol?" he asks. There's a slim chance that Kol doesn't actually know anything, merely had a night of debauchery in mind. That's what he'd claimed when he'd banged on Klaus' door earlier, demanding Klaus come out with him. "You've gotten so dull, Niklaus," he'd groaned, helping himself to a drink. "Nearly as bad as Elijah. When was the last time you went out on a weekend?"

Klaus had rolled his eyes, wracked his brain for an excuse. It had been awhile. Caroline spent her weekends in the city, and while Klaus had accompanied her once or twice they'd found it worked better if he didn't. She did her shifts, concentrated on her coursework when she wasn't working and he did the same, freeing them up to spend time together during the week.

The system they'd worked out had been going well and Klaus saw no reason to justify himself to his younger brother. Unfortunately Kol had taken the lack of response as Klaus' acceptance to coming out with him, and when Klaus had attempted refuse he'd threatened to call Rebekah and tell her to come over. And bring that one mousy little friend of hers who blushed and stuttered every time either Kol or Klaus looked in her direction.

Klaus would rather rip out his own fingernails than be subjected to the girl's nervous twitching so he'd reluctantly caved.

And now here he was.

"Pay the man," Kol tells him, nodding to the driver's open window, "And I'll tell you, Nik."

Gritting his teeth Klaus dug out his wallet. Of course he'd been roped into  _paying_  too. When the cab's gone Kol throws his arms around Klaus' shoulders, dragging him towards the entrance. He attempts to elbow Kol somewhere uncomfortable but his brother's ensured that the angle's all wrong. "None of that," Kol scolds mockingly. "It's a  _gentleman's_  club, Nik. I'm quite certain childish roughhousing is frowned upon."

He recognizes the bouncer. Klaus had seen him around often enough back when he came here every other week. His name's Enzo and Klaus knows Caroline considers him a friend. His eyes light up when he sees Klaus, "Look who's here. Been awhile hasn't it, mate? Gorgeous know you were coming tonight? Because you're not on my list."

Kol answers before Klaus can, "Nope! Thought we'd surprise the lovely Caroline. I remember she put on  _quite_  the show the last time I was here. Possibly the finest pair of legs I've ever seen."

Well, Klaus supposed that cleared up exactly what Kol knew.

Enzo looks dubious, "Yeah, that one's not real fond of surprises. There's a great little diner a couple blocks over. Maybe you boys should go get a burger. I'll send her your way when she's done for the night."

Kol laughs dismissively, "What woman doesn't like surprises? We'll just…"

"Caroline," Klaus interrupts. "Bit of a control freak. It's part of her charm." He nods at Enzo, "I'll text her but if you could let her know I stopped by I'd appreciate it." He pulls out of his brother's hold, and walks away. He hears Kol attempt to argue with Enzo, weasel his way in the club. Evidently fails because he's soon jogging to catch up with Klaus. He sounds thoroughly peeved, "What's the point of you screwing a stripper if I can't skip the cover at her club? Honestly."

 _That's_  Klaus' breaking point.

He stops dead, shoves Kol into a darkened doorway. Kol bangs into the security grate, lets out a yelp of surprise. " _Don't_  speak of her like that," Klaus grits out.

Kol snorts in disbelief, "Nik. Come on. She's certainly tasty, I'll give you that, but she spends her weekends letting other men paw at her. What's the appeal?"

"It's her job," Klaus clips out. He reaches out, smooths the lapels of Kol's jacket, "And don't you think it's a wee bit hypocritical of you, brother? You were the one frequenting her workplace, were you not? You seemed to have no trouble being one of the men doing the pawing."

Kol's eyes widen, turn gleeful, "Hold on, you actually  _like_  this girl."

"Obviously," Klaus drawls. "Would I have bothered subjecting her to  _you_  if I didn't?"

"Rude, Niklaus. I am perfectly charming company."

"Yes. It was  _so_  charming of you to plan to harass a woman in her workplace."

"I wasn't going to  _harass_  her," Kol replies indignantly. "I just thought I might ask for the rest of that lap dance I paid for."

" _You_  didn't pay for anything," Klaus points out. "I did."

Kol grins, "Semantics. It was a birthday gift, was it not? Does that mean she's danced for you?"

Klaus leans in, keeps his tone low and even. It's been quite a while since he and Kol had fought in earnest, not since they were teens. But he's reaching the end of his patience, "Ask me something like that again and I'll tear out your liver and make you eat it. It'll make the carousing your so fond of quite difficult, don't you think?"

Kol's always been smarter than he lets on, hears the threat loud and clear, just as Klaus had meant him to. He leans more heavily into the wall, holding up his hands in a placating gesture, "Fine, fine. Message received."

Klaus isn't quite done. "And should you ever say anything to Caroline that is even the smallest bit offensive to her they'll never find your body. Brother or no."

Kol eyes him curiously, weighing his words. Klaus meets his gaze steadily, allowing Kol see his resolve. Finally he sighs, "So dramatic, Niklaus. You're worse than Rebekah."

He brushes past Klaus, muttering something about wanting a milkshake. Klaus hides a grin as he follows, knowing that he's won. And he'd not even had to resort to blackmail.

Three siblings down, three to go. Then he'd need to tackle his parents. A thought that made Klaus shudder.  _That_  was going to be unpleasant. At least, once Caroline had run the gauntlet of his family, he could be confident in her feelings for him.

Klaus was certain that no sane person would bother to nod and smile through all that crazy if they weren't serious about a relationship.


End file.
